


Like Oranges

by thinkwinkink



Category: When Calls the Heart (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Dating, F/M, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkwinkink/pseuds/thinkwinkink
Summary: Jack brings a little gift to dinner at Elizabeth's house, and plans go slightly awry.





	Like Oranges

A knock on the door made Elizabeth look up from the cutting board.

She smoothed her apron down and patted at her chiffon, making sure everything was in place, as she moved to answer it.

“Jack,” she sighed happily, that peaceful smile that forced its way onto her face every time she saw him making its appearance.

“Elizabeth,” he nodded, an answering crooked smile pulling at his mouth.

She stepped aside, motioning him in. She giggled and raised an eyebrow when he came through the door sideways, making sure whatever he held behind his back stayed hidden.

“What are you doing?” she laughed.

Jack smiled.

“Well, I might have a little something that I think you might like,” he demurred.

Her eyes lit up, and she bounced slightly on the spot. “And what might that be?”

“Well, I’m not sure I can just _give_ it to you,” he said, adopting an expression of feigned chagrin. “I did have to have a friend send it to me from Hamilton…”

She put her hands on her hips. “What’s it going to cost me?” she pressed.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he drawled with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “A kiss might go some way to paying off the debt…”

A slow grin stretched her face, and she drew closer. He still wore the thick coat he had donned to shield him from the freezing night air, but she still felt a thrill as she sidled up to him and pressed close.

She slid a hand up his neck, his skin cooled by the night air where his collar hung open. His eyes, dark and glistening in the lower light, flickered over her face as she inched closer. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then drew back ever so slightly to speak.

“Do you think that could cover it?” she whispered.

“I don’t know; Hamilton is pretty far away,” he deliberated.

“True,” she conceded, drifting close to his lips. She pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “How’s that?”

“Close,” he said.

“How close?”

“About an inch.”

She let out a silent laugh as she moved to kiss him properly. She slid her hand to the back of his neck, fingers dipping just under his collar, hinting at something slightly scandalous but not going any farther.

Jack clearly didn’t mind, kissing her back deeply. Unusually, he didn’t move to embrace her, busy holding whatever he had behind his back. Eventually he pulled back, a satisfied expression on his face.

“That would definitely do it,” he said. He produced two bottles from behind him, clear glass with a cheery label decorated with pictures of oranges and flowers. The elegant script declared the bright contents to be _Mrs. Allens’ Orange Special_.

“‘The taste of summer afternoons,’” she read from the bottle. “Sounds perfect.”

She had told him not three weeks ago of her love of oranges, of her childhood obsession with them, the way she coveted them above any other treat. Fresh citrus wasn’t always readily available in the remote areas of Canada. So, of course, Jack had found a way to bring them to her.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. His broad smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle and her heart skip a beat, was almost a precious enough gift to outshine the well-travelled cordial.

+++

Jack relaxed back into the couch as Elizabeth retrieved the playing cards from a drawer. She had managed to make a stew, the meat a tolerable consistency and the vegetables a little on the mushy side, but the meal had tasted good. Very good. She had seemed pleased and relieved that it had turned out so well, and he was proud of her persistence. He would likely have given up by now.

The room was warm, the light from lamps and a few candles casting a homey glow over the whole scene. He admired the way it shone on her hair, the way it cast gentle shadows on her pale skin. He drank in her beauty as she was distracted, delicate hands rifling about as she searched. Elegant and kind and strong and indescribably pretty.

She came back with the cards, settling next to him, and began to shuffle. He poured them each a glass of the ‘Orange Special.’

Once she had dealt and offered him his hand, she held up her glass. He clinked it against hers, and they drank. The sweet, citrusy flavour was full and tangy, pleasing the two of them.

They played, they sipped, they laughed, they finished the bottle.

“Ha! That’s my last card, and I win!” Elizabeth cheered, throwing her arms up exuberantly. He thought she was uncommonly raucous this evening, but he only found it charming, laughing along with her excited commentary and offering his own.

Suddenly, she flopped back dramatically against the back of the sofa.

“Gosh, it is rather warm in here. It’s so cold out, I’m surprised,” she announced, fanning herself feebly.

“I could open a window for a few minutes if you want,” he offered, getting to his feet. Only in his button-up, he was surprised that he was quite warm too. More than that, he was surprised when he swayed slightly as he stood, throwing his arms out as he fought for balance. This amused Elizabeth greatly, who giggled from where she leant her weight into the arm of the couch.

“Are you feeling at all lightheaded?” he frowned, pressing a hand to his forehead.

She forced herself upright and into a standing position, clinging to his arm to keep from toppling over.

“I suppose I am,” she said, sounding dismayed. “What’s wrong with us?”

Jack snagged the bottle from the low table, squinting at the label.

“This is sweet enough that you can’t even taste it, but I suspect it has an awful lot of alcohol in it,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t even think to check.”

Elizabeth made a resigned sort of sound, leaning into him more heavily.

“Oh, well,” she said flippantly, “I forgive you, Jack. You’re still beautiful to me.”

“What?” he asked, looking down at her in confusion.

“What?” she blinked up at him innocently. “You’re pretty as a picture. Very handsome. Julie agrees with me, you know.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank her next time I see her,” he chuckled. She laughed along with him, albeit weakly.

He looked down at her in concern. She didn’t drink much, he knew. He didn’t make a habit of more than a beer or two, but Elizabeth seldom had more than a glass of wine with dinner, and she had had more of the spiked cordial than he.

Perhaps he ought to be more impressed that she was holding it together as well as she was.

“Oh, Jack, you’ll have to stay a while,” she declared suddenly.

“Why’s that?”

“You can barely stand!” she exclaimed.

“ _You_ can barely stand,” he retorted.

“I can stand if I have to,” she argued, raising her chin haughtily but remained pressed into his side. “Besides, it wouldn’t matter. This is my house, and I can sit or stand or lie down. You need to sit here or you’ll slip and fall on the way back to the gaol.”

“You have a point there,” he conceded. It was probably a good idea for him to let some of the effects of the drink wear off before he went stumbling home in the dark.

“Then sit,” she insisted, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back towards the couch.

He sat, and she fell into the cushions beside him. She was always so graceful, so measured and dignified, it was disarming to see her so off-balance.

“What do you want to do while we wait?” he asked, craning his neck to see her face where it pressed against his arm.

“We could play a game,” she suggested.

“What game?”

“Uh… Ball of Wool?” she shrugged.

He laughed but agreed.

They ended up seated on the floor, cross-legged like children, with the cleared coffee table between them. Elizabeth found a tiny scrap of cheesecloth, which she managed to tie up into a small ball, though it took several minutes. The longer she struggled and the harder she concentrated, the funnier it became for the two of them. They were both flushed from laughing so hard when she placed it in the middle of the table, at last.

“Alright,” she said, trying to calm herself, “On three. One, two, three!”

They both started blowing on the ball, which tumbled this way and that with their efforts. Jack seemed to be winning at first, but when he paused to take a breath, Elizabeth ducked low to the table and forced the ball off with one powerful huff.

“Ha! I won!” she cried triumphantly, laughing as she leant back to catch her breath.

“You’re on a roll tonight,” he conceded. He didn’t mind losing when she was so ecstatic to win.

“It’s all about strategy, Jack,” she confided. “But what shall I claim as my prize…”

“Prize?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Prize, of course,” she said, eyes wide and earnest. “With every victory come the spoils of war.”

“Well, what are you claiming, then?” he grinned.

She hummed thoughtfully before getting to her feet and walking around the table, dropping into his lap. He jumped in surprise, but his hands went to her waist by force of habit when she wrapped her arms around his neck. They were closer than usual, their position far more intimate, and he was entranced by her proximity. Intoxicated more by her warm weight than he could ever be by the drink.

“A kiss, I think,” she murmured. She pressed her lips to his, and his grip on her tightened. Her lips were soft and smooth as ever, and he was drawn in by the way she sucked at his own.

The kiss grew deeper until she pulled away to smile at him.

“You taste like oranges,” she said.

He smiled. “We should play another game.”

Elizabeth smiled back. “Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> I watched every episode on Australian Netflix in about a fortnight. I didn't really have any inspiration to write for the show but i adore the characters, so i wanted to put something out there, even if I felt it underwhelming.


End file.
